For Better Or Worse
by SherlockianWhovian
Summary: Sequel to 'Saint and Sinner'. MI6 estimated that Mycroft's trip eastwards would last approximately 3 months, Mycroft has no intention of letting them have their way.
1. Chapter 1

"I thought they said three months." Sherlock said as he sat opposite his brother in the dark living room of 221B. The curtains had been pulled across the windows to hide the living room from the view of any onlookers.

"They did." Mycroft replied, sipping at his cup of tea.

"Then how are you still here?" Sherlock asked, looking over his brother.

"The Russians liked me." Mycroft replied with a slight chuckle.

"How is your Russian?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow.

"отлично."* Mycroft replied with a smirk.

"Sherlock?" John called out, moving towards the light switch.

"Leave the lights off, John. Mycroft is here for a visit." Sherlock called out.

"Oh." John replied, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness before he moved closer into the room. He could see them both relatively clearly now, sat opposite each other in the armchairs beside the fireplace, "How was your trip?"

"Interesting." Mycroft admitted, glancing up at John, "I am in London again on business, but I thought it would be polite to pay a visit to my brother."

"Since when have you ever been polite?" Sherlock snorted.

"Politeness is very important in the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service." Mycroft replied, glancing between the two of them.

"Working for the Russians then?" John asked, sitting down on the sofa, "How does Her Majesty feel about that?"

"Her Majesty sent me into the arms of Russia." Mycroft pointed out, "I think of it now as a blessing."

"I thought you would have given up legwork by now." Sherlock admitted, watching Mycroft through the darkness.

"I thought so too, but it turns out that the Russians are very encouraging about my unorthodox hobby." Mycroft replied with a smirk.

"Is that what you're here in London for? Your hobby?" John asked, his voice much more sharp than he intended it to be.

"Indeed." Mycroft replied with a nod, "The President himself has sent me on this mission."

"MI6 are falling apart without you." Sherlock admitted quietly, "They even visited John and I to request that we help them to get organized after your departure. Naturally, we refused."

"Naturally." Mycroft repeated with a slight smile, "I must be going now. I have some business to conduct in Canary Wharf."

"Fatal business?" John asked.

"Yes, for someone." Mycroft replied, getting to his feet.

"No umbrella?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You don't need an umbrella in Russia. You need a warm coat and a large gun." Mycroft laughed quietly, walking towards the front door, "Don't try to get involved, Sherlock."

"I wouldn't dare." Sherlock replied in mock horror, holding his hands up in the air.

"Goodbye, Sherlock. Goodbye, John." Mycroft said as he walked down the stairs to the front door.

"Are we really not going to get involved?" John asked once he was sure that Mycroft was gone.

"Of course not." Sherlock replied, getting up from his chair and pulling on his coat, "Come on, let's head over to Canary Wharf."

* * *

* "отлично."/"Excellent."


	2. Chapter 2

Watching Mycroft in action was more thrilling than John expected it to be. He'd only known the man to pull strings whilst sitting in his posh office, so to see him indulging in legwork was something of a shock.

"He's gotten better at this." Sherlock admitted from beside John, his eyes fixed on his brother.

Mycroft was sat on top of a rooftop with a sniper rifle carefully positioned. He was completely still, his eyes pressed to the rifle's sight as he waited for his target.

Sherlock had managed to find a good position for him and John so they could watch Mycroft without the other man knowing.

"I imagine he would have had training from the Russians." John murmured.

"Oh yes, he would have been put to the test by them and then trained in their methods." Sherlock replied with a nod, "He was always rather good at fieldwork."

"If he was good at it, why did he give it up?" John asked.

"MI6 had plenty of agents, but they needed a coordinator. Mycroft became a department head and then was promoted many times after that." Sherlock explained.

A bullet whistled through the small space between their heads, planting itself in the wall directly behind them.

John jumped a little and looked down, surprised to see Mycroft pointing a second gun in their direction.

"It looks like we've outstayed our welcome." Sherlock sighed, putting his hands up in mock surrender before he led the way towards the roof steps.

By the time they emerged at the bottom of the building, Mycroft was stood over three dead MI6 agents. He'd made his way down from his sniper's perch and had a gun trained on a fourth MI6 agent a few feet away.

"Did you plan this, Sherlock?" Mycroft demanded without looking towards his brother.

"No, this trap isn't of my making." Sherlock replied, recognizing Anthea as the fourth agent.

"We have realized our mistake and would like you to return to your post. Your time away has proven your skills to our superiors." Anthea spoke, her voice clear in the silent street.

"I don't believe you. This has all the hallmarks of an assassination." Mycroft spoke quietly, clicking the safety off his gun.

Anthea lifted her own gun and trained it on her ex-boss, "Assassinating you wouldn't be to our benefit." she said.

"Why should I trust that you're not lying to me?" Mycroft asked, watching her with dark eyes.

"Reykjavik." Anthea said in response, her expression remaining calm and controlled.

Neither of them moved for a moment before Mycroft nodded a little and lowered his gun. He unzipped his thick coat and pulled off his bulletproof vest, throwing it onto the floor as he took a few steps forward.

"Do be careful, Anthea." Mycroft said with a slight chuckle, "I hope your aim is still as good as ever."

"My aim is excellent. I'll try to avoid your organs." Anthea replied with a warm smile. She stepped forward and carefully fired three bullets into Mycroft's torso.


	3. Chapter 3

"What the hell?" John gasped, immediately rushing forward as Mycroft hit the floor.

"Blackhawk captured." Anthea spoke softly into her radio with a triumphant smile as she watched John deal with Mycroft's wounds.

"Good shot." Sherlock said, looking over at the MI6 agent, "Your superiors will think that there was some sort of battle, showing your skills and Mycroft's."

"I was taught by the best." Anthea replied proudly, winking to the detective before her back-up arrived.

Medics arrived and took Mycroft out of John's hands, loading him into a private ambulance and taking him away to one of MI6's units.

"I hope I don't have to threaten you both. What you witnessed tonight must stay strictly confidential, for both your sake and Mycroft's." Anthea said quietly to the two flatmates as they watched the ambulance drive away, "I will ensure that our goons aren't too hard on him for deserting, but you both must also keep quiet."

"Of course." Sherlock agreed with a nod, surprisingly serious for once.

"Yes, we won't say anything." John replied, glancing up at Sherlock for a moment.

Anthea nodded and smiled to them both, "Goodnight." she said, walking away and climbing into a black car.

"Do our taxes just get spent on chauffeured cars?" John murmured to Sherlock.

"Yes, that and expensive, dramatic showdowns in Canary Wharf." Sherlock replied with a chuckle.

* * *

"Back in post then, brother dear?" Sherlock asked as Mycroft entered 221B with a flick of his expensive umbrella.

"Yes, just about." Mycroft replied with a tight smile, sitting down gracefully on the sofa.

"How are your wounds?" John asked curiously, his eyes pausing on Mycroft's waistcoated torso.

"They are as to be expected. A necessary evil, as such." Mycroft replied with a slight grimace, "I am lucky that Anthea is such a good shot."

"I presume Anthea is now your superior?" Sherlock said with an amused smirk.

Mycroft swallowed and frowned at his brother, "Yes. Anthea's position is a compromise that I was encouraged to accept if I were to return to the service."

"Encouraged?" John repeated, looking over the government official.

"Yes. Encouraged, persuaded, advised." Mycroft replied, "I dread to think what my fate would have been had I not taken their encouragement."

"Do the Russians know that you were planted to gain intelligence?" Sherlock asked.

"I will pretend that I didn't hear that. Any such thoughts are purely theory and I can neither confirm or deny them." Mycroft replied.

"How are you coping with your...hobby?" John asked curiously.

Mycroft looked over at John and smiled darkly, "As part of my agreement over Anthea's new position, I have also been allowed to take up a more _active_ role in operations."

"Oh. Good." John replied with a nervous nod, "As long as you're handling it."

"You needn't worry, John. My specialist skills are being put to use for Her Majesty's benefit." Mycroft replied with a slight smirk, enjoying how uncomfortable the subject obviously made the ex-army doctor.

"Is this just a social call or are my abilities being requested by MI6?" Sherlock asked, although he already knew the answer.

"I was merely passing by and decided a social call was in order." Mycroft replied, "Some tea would be lovely, John."

"Oh, tea, okay." John said, startled by how normal everything seemed to be again. He got to his feet and walked into the kitchen, making three cups of tea as he listened to the two brothers bicker and tease each other. Yes, everything was finally back to normal.


End file.
